


Here Comes the Sun

by BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (Particularly for DSMP!ConnorEatsPants), And they are both educated on raising the dead, Body horror (?), Connor and Schlatt have history, Drugs, Gen, Ghosts, Is it Ghostbur or Alivebur? Honestly I'm not sure either, Making Fanfics Out of Off-Stream Moments? Why not?, My First Work in This Fandom, My Take on How Connor Got Wilbur's Stuff, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk/pseuds/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk
Summary: Connor shuffled the weight in his inventory, coming back to the two children, "I've-I've had something in secret for a while,""Really?" Tommy asked him."Mhm."Connor questioned himself as to why the boys were feeling nostalgic over drugs. Was Wilbur really...likethat?"I collected these things from my good friend that was a ghost," He then pulled out[Ghostbur's Pick]and[Chehkov's Gun], to the surprise and elation of the little "Beatles", as he had affectionately called them.
Relationships: Connor | ConnorEatsPants & Jschlatt, Connor | ConnorEatsPants & TommyInnit, Connor | ConnorEatsPants & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Here Comes the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Season 2 of the Dream SMP (November 17, 2020 - January 20, 2021)
> 
> This involves the roleplay characters in the Dream SMP storyline. I have no intent to slander any of the content creators with this.

_**Bootleg Beatles.**_ ConnorEatsPants saw TommyInnit and Tubbo as Bootleg Beatles.

They did fit the bill: they're British, they do drugs, and they're "saving rock and roll".

Connor shuffled the weight in his inventory, coming back to the two children, "I've-I've had something in secret for a while,"

"Really?" Tommy asked him.

"Mhm."

Connor questioned himself as to why the boys were feeling nostalgic over drugs. Was Wilbur really...like that?

"I collected these things from my good friend that was a ghost," He then pulled out **[Ghostbur's Pick]** and **[Chehkov's Gun]** , to the surprise and elation of the little "Beatles", as he had affectionately called them.

* * *

Connor exited out the nether portal he had just built, inventory filled with appropriate amounts of spruce wood, glass, and quartz blocks.

It was really the only way to get away from whatever new mess the server got into that time.

_New house, new home, right?_

As he debated as to whether he would start construction on this probable new house that day, he went to the chests resting on his land, pacing around them until he made his choice.

He decided to start sometime later, _maybe in a few days, or a week._ He wasn’t sure, but he'd get to it then.

He looked up to stare at the dumb sign floating above his territory, filling up the chests as he did.

_Little Penis Land_ —Connorville was the initial name, but he settled on that name instead knowing it would make the place easier to locate. 

Tommy pushed on it thinking it was funny. He remembered the signs left by the boy.

Did he remove— _yep, the signs are gone._

Connor did not know what to make of young TommyInnit. They had their rent disputes, plus the whole hostage thing.

_Tommy was a dick, sure, but he's a child. A stupid one, an annoying one, but a broken one too._

Sixteen is too young an age for the color in one's eyes to drain out, and Connor was sure that happened to him when he was a lot older. _Getting deep into shit will do that to you._

He stared around the area, taking in the view from his land.

A distant memory involving dead sheep and alive sheep rang loud in Connor's memory as he looked around. He remembered a lot of tired bickering, yelling of incantations, and something about book publication.

In one direction was smoke, far out. Sometimes it was gray, sometimes it glowed with a tinge of red. _R.I.P. L'Manburg_.

_Was that sheep thing with Schlatt or Charlie? Ehhhhhhh...definitely Schlatt._

There were red growths everywhere. There’s…

_There’s a penis on top of Tommy’s house_ —made of wool and very American. _It’s a good craft,_ Connor thought to himself, deciding to go there to further inspect it. He could pick up anything he left behind at the adjacent house he lived in at some point while over there.

He touched one of the bigger vines as he tried to get to the place. He jumped internally at the sound of unfamiliar voices, though he knew the dialogue, the beckoning. Those were familiar.

The Crimson spoke of promises, of what he wanted being given to him.

Connor chuckled at the blood vine, giving it a light caress before jumping over it, 

“...okay. Anyway,” He remarked, unaffected from a lack of attachment.

This...Crimson, as it called itself, went after him no differently than everyone else in the server. Connor wanted to be left alone, not having to be involved. He wondered if the voices got to everyone already. He was quick to conclude that it may have been the “Egg” BadBoyHalo tried to introduce him to when they went looking for a good portal spot in the Nether together.

_I've seen better advertising from Schlatt & Co. _

Connor then stared at the build once he arrived at the location, disappointed at the use of wooden buttons.

The familiar smell of potion brewing, **that** kind of brewing, got Connor's attention, instinctively leading him into Tommy’s house.

Bubbling rang throughout the dirt building as Connor stumbled upon shadows of floating bottles visible by the moonlight.

“Do I know you?” His volume spooked the specter he happened upon, a ghost busy in the art of drug brewing.

The ghost almost dropped his hard work, “Who are you and what are you doing in Tommy’s house?!”

_This guy is British._

“W-What about you? I've literally never seen you before,” Connor lowered the hood from his onesie.

The ghost's skin was devoid of any color, appearing as though dripping, akin to the appearance of a Drowned. He wore a grey beanie, grey jeans, and was clothed in a haphazardly sewn sweater that seemed to have wanted a red outcome but ran out of the necessary thread and went with yellow instead. The blending of the color seemed impeccable, meeting at a tear that leaked unbelievable amounts of...some sort of blue shit.

"You haven't?" He sounded appalled at not being recognized, the ghostly echo amplifying his volume significantly.

"No. I mean, I've been here for about...two? T-two months, I think. Even then, I don't go around much."

"Hm," The ghost turned off the brewing stand, “Are you a new friend of Tommy’s?”

"It's hard to say."

The ghost tilted his head curiously. "Then I suppose you can be a new friend of mine!"

"Alright," Connor hummed calmly, proceeding to eye the bottles the ghost was holding, "Could I have one of those?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not," Connor could not tell if the ghost was being passively sassy or genuinely soft-spoken, "I've got a favor to do for somebody."

The ghost had two bottles, one with water and the other with a strong purple liquid _...A strength potion?_

Connor only knew one person who could handle a bottle of **that**. He was partial to slowness-potion ones (at least, whenever he didn't have "sugar", most especially).

"You're...you're dead. How are transactions with a dead guy valid?"

"Oh shut up," The ghost snarked back flamboyantly, straightening himself at what appeared to be the expression of having just remembered something.

"Speaking of favors," The ghost placed the bottles in the bleeding blue pocket on his torso, exchanging them for what appeared to be enchanted weapons.

The blue was everywhere, dripping on the floor like the very person of the ghost before Connor.

"What the fuck?!" Connor panicked and stepped back.

"No no no, wait!" The ghost blindly waved the weapons around Connor in his flimsy attempts to calm him down, "I'm not going to hurt you!"

"I-Is that-I-Is your inventory **inside** your body?!"

The ghost glanced down at his chest, frowning.

He looked back at Connor with a solemn smile, "Let's...not discuss that."

Connor tried to position himself into a more relaxed stance, despite still being far from relaxed, "C-Can we discuss those weapons, then?"

The blue seemed to enhance the glimmer of the enchantment.

"I was planning to leave these to Tommy and Tubbo," The ghost handed them for Connor to take, "but it seems that they're not here, or on the server right now, for that matter."

Connor saw a crossbow and a pickaxe. He first took **[Ghostbur's Pick]** then **[Chehkov's Gun]**.

"I can't be here for very long. It's the least that I can do."

Connor scraped off the blue from the weapons, quickly keeping them in his inventory.

"I'll give it to them."

"Do hurry, erm-"

"Connor,"

"Do hurry, Connor!" The ghost began to pace about, staining the ground with more blue as he made more frantic his steps, "I can't tell whether my business here is finished or not, but I was beckoned here, conveniently with the veil being quite thin-"

"That means you do have unfinished business then," The ghost's words pulled certain knowledge into Connor's immediate thoughts.

"And yet I'm not quite sure what it is..." The ghost tried to phase through the walls as he said this, only to hurt himself doing so.

"Oh my God," Connor belted out in concern.

_Ghosts...aren't supposed to do that. Unless—_

The ghost chuckled, putting a hand on his forehead, "Nothing to worry about, Connor!"

The ghost then gestured for Connor to follow him outside. Connor obeyed and came out to see a beautiful sunrise.

"Over here," He gestured towards the nearby bench.

Connor remembered the last time he saw Tommy; the boy was seated at that particular bench, more tired and weary than he could fathom.

_"You're just a conflicted person, not a bad person...and I hope you find what you're looking for."_

"I don't know why, but I'm feeling drawn to this little corner, Connor," The ghost stated, trying to feel the wood of the so-called bench.

"...I'm guessing business with whoever owns that."

"Tommy..." The ghost weakly vocalized, "a-and Tubbo,"

"You just answered your own question,"

"Of course, but," The ghost then studied the jukebox next to the bench, "I thought I was done? I-I'm supposed to be done!"

Connor suddenly remembered what happens around angry ghosts, quickly rushing to the panicking specter.

"I'm sure whatever it is, it's going to be okay—"

"My L'Manburg, Connor!" He gripped onto Connor's onesie with particular ferocity, "It's supposed to be left unfinished, and yet I'm still here? A part of me remains—why am I still cursed to haunt?"

Connor considered this ghost to be a unique sort of split case. _The average ghost is never **this** indecisive. Fucking hell, specific cases like this one were Schlatt's thing. _

_And Schlatt is also dead. I should try to bring him back sometime._

"Please calm down,"

_It's getting real fucking annoying on this server anyway._

"Then tell me," The ghost spoke with a dynamic volume, "why on Earth do I have unfinished business?"

"You know, uh," Connor tried to get the ghost to pry off his hands from his person, "you were talking about Tommy? A-And Tubbo? A lot? Just a little earlier? Maybe that would ring some bells?"

The ghost let go.

"Of course, of course. Protect Tommy and Tubbo. Ensure their victory, make everyone happy—yes yes yes, that's right."

"Good, good," Connor backed away from the ghost for safety, "you're remembering."

* * *

_"Real nutcases are fucking forgetful, apparently. That ghost bitch keeps getting lost."_

_"As if living dogs aren't as prone to getting lost. Good thing though, now that we know how to force-summon a ghost,"_

_"It's gonna be hell having to deal with this one, Connor! You shouldn't have let me get mauled by that fucking panda—"_

_"How was that my fault? You wanted to kill it, Schlatt! Now, all our totems are fucking gone!"_

* * *

"I-I just need to help them prepare," The ghost was suddenly excited, "Connor, do you think it would be a good idea if I give them my weapons or make them some new ones?"

"I think you've done quite enough with these," Connor pulled out the weapons again, "I'll give these to Tommy and Tubbo, like you asked me to."

"Then we ought to give it to them as soon as possible, Connor! They can't fight Dream without them!"

Connor blinked.

"They're gonna fight Dream? The guy who's running the server?" _That's...that's such a dumb fucking idea? Uh???_

"Dream is evil, Connor." The ghost deepened his voice to insinuate seriousness. "He has hurt us all far enough. Surely you do see that?"

"I'm rarely on here, man!" Connor argued back, "B-but don't worry. I promise to give these to them."

The ghost smiled, solemnly again, "Thank you, Connor."

* * *

Tommy and Tubbo could not sing for shit, butchering the iconic song he had asked for them to sing for him.

_Here comes the sun, doo doo dudu..._

For Bootleg Beatles, he thought the two kids did enough.

_They've been through enough._

_Fuck this server._

Connor walked out of Tommy's dirt house, wishing the two luck.

* * *

_“I’m telling you, Connor! We shouldn’t fucking sell it,”_

_”But wasn’t this your idea? You said this would make us a lot of bank, right?”_

_Connor flipped through the pages of his copy in his hand, “I, like, already made arrangements with the publisher, Schlatt. We have the money, and this thing’s been proofread—“_

_”Connor Connor Connor,” Schlatt got up and took his friend’s shoulders, “y-you know how you asked me to come to here sober?”_

_”Yeah, no shit. This is literally a business matter,”_

_”Of course, of course," Schlatt's clappy little ram hands dug into Connor's suspenders, "It just got me thinking,”_

_”About what?"_

_"About the whole revival thing," Schlatt reclined back into his chair, "Like holy shit, Connor! We were actually considering giving this...t-this precious information away,"_

_"And?" Connor closed his copy._

_"What do you mean 'And?!' **We can literally bring people back to life.** Death, o-once you know this shit, changes forever."_

_"Well, yeah."_

_"Why the fuck aren't you taking this seriously, Connor?" Schlatt rubbed his temples, "If one of us dies right now, we can easily bring the other back."_

_"I mean," Connor tapped on his book, "All we've done so far is fuck around with a bunch of mobs, right? Dogs, foxes, cats, sheep—I don't see the problem of giving this info to someone who can do literally anything else with it."_

_"You know I've got a lot of enemies, big man,"_

_"True,"_

_"Somebody out there might use this shit against me. A-against us, Connor! Think about the fucking implications!"_

_"I..." Connor stopped himself, glancing at his book, "I think we should just do what we want with it."_

_"Connor?!"_

_"The arrangements are under your name, Schlatt. If you want to cancel them, I'm giving you that responsibility."_

_Schlatt blinked._

_"W-What are you on about, Connor?"_

_"I...I don't think we value this thing on the same level. I don't know about you, but I would like to **not** care."_

_"...there's no moving you, huh?"_

_"Nope."_

_"Shame."_

_Connor chuckled, "This is just like, extra life hacks or something for me, man. In fact, I might consider burning my copy later, or whenever."_

_"Don't burn your copy, Connor! What the fuck?"_

_"I mean, you do have a point! Most of this was you, and it's kinda just, **well**. This is my way to erase all associations from this. Don't wanna be tied to something you say is 'important', y'know?"_

_"Hm," Schlatt watched Connor get up and pull out a flint and steel from his inventory, "I-I guess I can respect that decision then."_

_"Yeah," Connor then started a fire on the ground.  
_

_Schlatt laughed, "You gonna burn that now?"_

_Connor exchanged his flint and steel for a water bucket, putting out the fire, "N-Nevermind. I can do that later."_

_"Think on it, buddy. I'm gonna have to do a lot of thinking too."_

_Connor laughed back, "I bet the only use I can have with this fucking book is bringing you back."_

_"Yeah, maybe."_


End file.
